


Conditional

by Raelynn



Series: One Word Prompts [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, post-tab
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 02:12:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6546289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raelynn/pseuds/Raelynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trying to get back in the swing of writing.  This was another one word prompt, this one from ArtByLexie: Conditional</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conditional

Molly sat in the small break room near the morgue, nursing a cup of horrid coffee. She heard the door open behind her, but paid little attention. Very few people used this room, usually just interns and students on morgue rotation nipping in for more caffeine. So she was totally unprepared when Mary Watson dropped into the chair in front of her, little Eliza tucked into the carrier around her chest.

“Molly,” she said in greeting.

Molly looked up. “Oh, hi, Mary. Oh my gosh, she’s getting so big!” Molly leaned over the table to run a finger along Eliza’s plump cheek.

“Sherlock’s in a strop,” said Mary, bluntly. Molly looked up at her, her eyes cold and hard.

“How is that my problem?” she said, bringing her hand back and wrapping both hands around her coffee cup again.

“You refuse to see him, refuse to work with him. John says he’s become unbearable, and he’s made three of the interns cry this week alone.”

Molly shrugged, taking a long drink of her coffee while she gathered her thoughts. It had been a month since Sherlock’s aborted mission, and as soon as she’d received word about what had happened in those four minutes, she’d shut her heart, her doors, and her morgue to him. She was done.

“Mary,” she began. She stopped for a moment, looking up in the ceiling, trying to find the words. “You two drag him into my lab last August, high a a kite. He insists it’s for a case. I don’t need to remind you how the rest of last year went. But then January rolls around, and he OD’s. It might have been for a case, but he’s finding every excuse imaginable to get high and justify it. I can deal with an addict. I can’t deal with someone who is self-destructive and has no intention of dealing with his problems.”

She drains her coffee cup, and stands. “I need to get back to work. But I don’t believe in unconditional love, Mary. Unconditional love is for doormats and teenagers who don’t know any better. My love absolutely has conditions, and one of them is that he at least tries to stay clean. I’ve seen no evidence that he’s trying.”

Before Mary could say anything, Molly swept out of the small room and back down to the morgue. She threw herself into the afternoon’s duties, two autopsies and some time in the lab. 

She was in the lab when the doors opened, and Sherlock came in. She looked up at him briefly, and turned back to her microscope. “Bentley will be back in a half hour, she can help you,” she said, reaching for another slide.

Sherlock walked over and dropped into the seat next to her. “I don’t need Bentley, I need to talk to you.”

Molly sighed. “Talk,” she said, never taking her eyes off her work, reaching over to make some notes on the pad next to her. 

“I’m not going to try to justify last summer. But I want you to understand that my overdose was not an accident. I was not trying to get high. I was trying to kill myself.”

Molly turned and met his eyes. “What?”

“I was being sent on a suicide mission as punishment for killing Magnusson. So I figured I’d just...hurry it up.”

Sherlock sighed, glancing down at his hands. Molly followed his gaze, and saw them twisting nervously in his lap. “Last summer was absolutely me finding excuses to go get high and pretend it was justified. You have every right to be angry about that. But January...January was different. And I thought you should hear it from me. Thank you for listening.”

He stood, and started to walk to the door. Molly took a deep breath and blew it out in a sigh. As he reached the door, she called out to him.

“Bring some Indian to my place at 8?”

Sherlock stopped and turned, realizing the forgiveness she was offering him. 

He smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it,” he said, and then turned and left, his coat swishing behind him as the door closed.


End file.
